From Attuned to Ascended to Ancient, Kiada Njovu-Reyes has been reborn several times throughout her short life, but her fighting spirit has never once been diminished. With beauty, grace and a quick wit, Kiada is the whole package wrapped in an infectious smile. Recent endeavours have found her in the heart of the Hollowed Grounds, aiding the region and bettering it for her new Ancient kin, and whatever she does next, we know it's sure to pack a punch.
Congratulations, Kiada!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
Skinning and hosting by the epically talented Kaons, and functionality fanciness by the coding magic of Neowulf. If you ever see either of them around, make sure to show them some love!
"Ouch," he huffed softly, with a mock wounded expression, placing a long-fingered hand over his heart. "The lady is harsh. But alright. Challenge accepted." His answering grin was full of salacious promise, and only faded marginally at Astaroth's admonition. Sparing the taller man a second look, Isar considered the impeccable state of dress, the cane and the overall impression it affected. Maybe he should make a point of sticking to him; something might rub off that would please the sharp-eyed woman.
An odd gleam entered his eyes as Whitebrim was brought up. Nodding in slow understanding, he got a feeling that they would need a private conversation at some point. With Thalassa to overhear them it might be awkward - he didn't want to make her even more adverse towards him.
"Yes, do tell," he agreed instead, and went over to the rocks to make himself comfortable. He would never grow too old for a good story.
i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me
Collecting the interest of Thalassa has Astaroth’s grin growing a bit wider, teeth sharp as he inclines his head, wind ruffling through the edges of his dark hair that’s very carefully slicked back behind his pronged horns. “Vastly different. No Skyships or skyboats, locations were closer. Halo hadn’t quite separated from the Draig as far as it appears to have.” He’s seen the new maps created from the shift of the last war, the changes over so many centuries of his stasis had been surprising to swallow.
“The people were quite different then, too.” Not nearly as advanced in terms of their comforts as they were now. Not that he’s complaining – he prefers the advancement that the regions have made, especially considering their ability to create such beautifully brilliant things. “There is one other that I know of, and he’s the Theocrat of the Hollowed Grounds.” The information is easy to offer, a casual shrug from a slim enough shoulder for how much he towers over the participants of the group. “Everyone else, however, could still be asleep or gone forever.” His shrug, paired with his too sharp grin, seems to suggest that he doesn’t care one way or another where they ended up.
He was here and Danta was here and realistically that’s all that matters.
Astaroth
the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree
At Isar's mock pain, she simply shrugs her shoulders. Thal never claimed to be kind. Although, she looks forward to seeing what kind of transformation Isar attempts. The mystery itself entertains her while she further assesses his messy hair and dark eyes as he approaches the rocks to sit next to her. Even if he plans to one day appeal to her, currently, she shifts slightly away from his form as if the ruggedness might rub off on her pristine black cloak. With a flick of her hair, she chooses to ignore him and give her full attention to Astaroth's words.
The idea that Caido could have been so different not too long ago, has her tilting her head in interest. Astaroth seems to her like a walking history book that she may actually be convinced to read. Thal continues to twist her dagger but looks to the older Ancient in more open curiosity. "Do you think more will awaken?" She likes to imagine that the Ancients could be quite the intimidating force if there were more of them.
Another thought comes to mind, and she asks quietly, "How were we treated in the old days?" There is a suspicion that tells her she already knows the answer, however, she lets Astaroth answer nonetheless.
Content to listen, Isar did not interrupt as Astaroth began his tale of the elder days. It was interesting to learn of the world that in many ways was as unfamiliar to him as to those encased in stone. He had only ever known Halo; these were the first steps he took on the lands beyond the Fangs, and if he found it disorienting, he pitied the others.
Leaving Thalassa alone for now, he simply nodded his continued interest in the question she asked - sharing her interest, fancy that - and idly wound a few strands of reed around his fingers while he watched the wind billow the beach grass beyond the tall ancient's shoulder.
i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me
Flashing Thalassa another sharp toothed grin, Astaroth’s head tilts slightly with the question. “Perhaps. Unless we are killed, we simply remain as stone. I lived life as a slumbering gargoyle for centuries.” Unaware of how the world changed and forgot about them as time passed. But that’s okay, because he’s here now.
As for how they were treated, his smile shifts sharper, and his dark gaze dances between woman and man (Isar) as he starts to explain that particular shift. “We were not to be trifled with. If anyone accidentally appeared in the Climb it was likely they didn’t get out.” It essentially had an enter at your own risk sign, one that should likely be stuck on Astaroth’s door, but that’s beside the point.
The butcher keeps that grin aimed at them, however. “The Climb was larger and we harbored so many rituals and hunts, the public knew that messing with us would be a terrible decision. So they didn’t. Instead, sometimes they would bring gifts to appease us.” His shoulder rises and falls in a small shrug.
Astaroth
the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree
She listens intently to the information he provides. The fact that they used to be revered is comforting and makes her wonder how they might regain their status in Caido. If the Void wasn't running rampant, she might have even discussed the possibility with her "siblings" right now. But that isn't the state of the world and these men may be the same in some ways, but that doesn't mean she has any desire to "team up" with them.
In the meantime, the curiosity continues to conjure more questions. Flipping her dagger through the air again, she asks, "Knowing all of this and seeing both sides, which do you prefer? Would you go back if you could?" She knows what her own answer would be. Who wouldn't want to go back to a time when there were fewer enemies and your race was feared?
Isar too found the idea of being respected as a race to be appealing. His slow smile said as much, and the way his attention intensified upon Astaroth.
"Are there any plans on restoring that line of thought into the current times?" he wondered, his question falling in behind Thalassa's in perfect leisure. "It might be pleasant, for a change. I've been getting tired of bending my neck." Perhaps in a different social climate he would figure out what to do with himself. The shadows were a pleasant enough place to be, but it did get tedious to always skulk about.
i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me
@Thalassa’s question is a vital one, and one that has him aiming his sharp grin toward her as he mulls over his thoughts. “I think both have their pros and cons.” He muses aloud, humming as he notices @Isar’s more intense gaze. Looking back to the fellow Ancient from Halo, Astaroth’s smile does not change as he hums. “Perhaps.” Though he cannot say for sure. At the present moment, things seem to be a bit more singular.
“While it was nice to not be trifled with, there was a specific hierarchy amongst us Ancients that we needed to follow. I do not miss that. I do miss the available options for food and hunts, however.” Different from now – considering the cannibal’s preferences – but he keeps those tight behind his sharp smile. “For now, though, I believe we are simply working on trying to make the Hollowed Grounds the new version of the Climb. Many of us congregate there.” He offers out to the both of them, unsure if they would wish to find their way there eventually.
Astaroth
the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree
The shift of topics to the Grounds makes Thal glance towards the horizon. "So I've been told." She didn't mention how Maea had offered her a place there, where she could dock The Marauder and develop a relationship with her own kind. How there might be a place that would accept her, without questions. But people are fickle and who knows how people would take a pirate living among them. In summary, it's a tempting prospect that she hasn't decided to accept yet.
Thal leans forward, catching the blade by the handle to still its flipping. "Aren't you worried that the hierarchy will develop again? History has a way of repeating itself." If she is going to seriously consider her options, she wants to know what kind of culture she might be getting into and what obstacles she may have to navigate.
With a history of being squashed beneath the thumb of fanatics, a cult eith hierarchies was the last thing Isar wanted to involve himself with. Yet he supposed every grouping needed some form of structure - might made right was the most basic and primal, if perhaps not the most pleasant.
"I visited that place before the snow started," he revealed. "It looked nice enough... but it didn't really scream 'home' to me. Is there anything worth doing there if drinking and fucking all day isn't my thing?" He didn't exactly mind either, but it got tedious in excess.
i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me
“Oh, certainly not.” Astaroth says with all the conviction of a man that truly believes it would never get to that point again. “The Theocrat of the Grounds knows better than to let that happen once more.” Because they both had suffered tremendously underneath it, and with Dantalion’s carefree attitude, it was highly unlikely anything could even come close. It’s what makes him so relaxed about it in the first place. And it’s why the grin he shoots Thalassa is nothing but pure, genuine faith in the Maverick for ensuring that it remained that way.
To Isar, though, Astaroth’s grin now turns to and he smirks a little toward the edges as he inclines his head. “Of course. I don’t participate in half of those activities, but, we have a barracks and soldiers we are training if that is more your style. As for the rest of it, it’s a clean slate. If you have an idea and wish to pursue it, I am sure it could be done.” Tilting his head, his curiosity over Isar’s motivations and what he wished to do settles at the forefront of his mind and focus.
Astaroth
the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree
Her head tilts in consideration of the new information. With all the positive reviews of the Hollowed Grounds, perhaps she should seriously contemplate the move. The government obviously recognizes the possible pitfalls, there are plenty of other Ancients, and now there's even a barrier against the Void. So far, she hasn't heard any downsides. Not that she's willing to admit that.
Leaning back against the stones again, Thal resumes flipping her blade. "Sounds too good to be true. I suppose we should be grateful to this 'Theocrat' for making an Ancient utopia?" She rolls her eyes, still resistant to the idyllic image being painted.
A clean slate, huh. Soldiering or whatever he wanted. Isar thoughtfully plucked a strand of withered grass and put it between his teeth. It tasted of like nothing he'd known before, raised as he was in a culture of carnivores - out of necessity as much as preference. Smirking at Thalassa and Astaroth, he wiggled it at them and raised a suggestive brow. "Maybe I'll take up farming," he drawled, like it was the most scandalous thing.
And he supposed that to a race that worshipped a goddess of entropy and chaos, the kind of order and stability necessary for growing anything really might be blasphemous.
i don't belong among the angels // and baby that's just fine with me
Thalassa’s sarcasm sparks a rumbling laugh from the butcher, a smirk growing into the grin as he glances toward her, his dark gaze fixating on her and the blade for a moment. “You are able to do whatever you like, my dear. It is open for you either way.” He offers with a shrug that brings the cane up and back down into the sandy, glittering earth. “I certainly don’t grovel despite finding a home there.” He does… Just… In other ways.
Anyway.
His dark gaze slides back over to Isar with another quiet chuckle leaving him, inclining his head. “You don’t particularly look the part as of yet.” His sharp grin remains fixated on him. “I suppose it could change, however, if that is what you wished to do.” Tilting his head this way and that, he considers. “Perhaps you might suit a hunter better?” He prompts, raising a dark brow.
Astaroth
the things i did up there were high school // but now i'm going for my degree
